


The Price

by izayoi_no_mikoto



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Gore, Comes Back Wrong, Creepy, Gen, Horror, Human Transmutation, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Nonnies Made Me Do It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2020-01-12 20:36:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18454175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/izayoi_no_mikoto/pseuds/izayoi_no_mikoto
Summary: Roy Mustang knows why no one has succeeded at human transmutation:  The Law of Equivalent Exchange applies to everything, but no one has been willing to pay a price equivalent to a human soul.





	The Price

Just before he drew the last line, he froze and thought, _Roy Mustang, what the fuck are you doing?_  
  
Suddenly, he felt like a stranger in his own skin.  He was holding something in his fingers, something that felt strange and foreign, like it was some exotic instrument rather than a humble stick of chalk.  The array on the stone floor was suddenly unreadable, its meaning incomprehensible.  He stared at the back of his hand; the transmutation circle stitched into the fabric was so familiar it was practically etched into the underside of his eyelids, and yet suddenly, it meant nothing at all.  
  
_Roy Mustang would never do this._  
  
He closed his eyes, just for a moment.  Then he opened them, looked down, pressed the chalk to the stone, and drew the last line, unwavering and unhesitant.  Complete.  He pushed himself to his feet, set the chalk aside, and walked the circumference of the array, his eyes scanning every square inch.  He walked it twice, thrice, stopping every step to examine every line, every curve, every twist of chalk dust.  
  
It took him an hour, and the entire time, the voice in the back of his mind whispered to him.  
  
_You can't seriously be thinking about doing this._   The voice sounded suspiciously like Riza's.   _Roy Mustang, you know this won't end well._  
  
He stared at the array, silent, motionless, searching for flaws, searching for mistakes.  Searching for a reason to stop.  He found none.  
  
_You know what this means, Mustang._  
  
Slowly, he pulled off his gloves, finger by finger.  First one white glove, then the other.  He laid them carefully aside, far from the array on the floor.  He didn't want to risk activating the flame transmutation circles by mistake; this was already volatile enough without adding fire to the mix.  
  
_You know what will happen._  
  
He turned and fetched the bags of raw materials.  Water, 35 liters.  Carbon, 20 kilograms.  Ammonia, 4 liters....  
  
_Turn back, Mustang._  
  
He dumped the materials into the center of the array.  
  
_You can't bring anybody back._  
  
"Equivalent exchange," he said softly.  
  
The voice inside him fell silent.  
  
"Equivalent exchange," he repeated.  "In order to obtain, something of equal value must be lost.  That is the law of equivalent exchange."  He paused.  "Isn't it?"  
  
There was no reply.  
  
"The reason others failed wasn't because they tried to do the impossible," he said.  "The reason they failed is because they weren't willing to pay its full value."  
  
He crouched down, knees to the cold stone, and pressed his bare fingertips to the very edge of the array.  He swallowed.   _Equivalent exchange_ , he reminded himself, and closed his eyes.  He knew what this meant.  He'd known ever since he began down this path.  
  
_Equivalent exchange._  
  
He took a deep breath, lowered his head, and activated the array.  
  
It crackled like lightning.  He heard the sound dimly, as though from a great distance and through a wall of water.  He clenched his jaw and furrowed his brow and pressed and pressed and _pressed_ \--  
  
And then, with a snap, he saw everything.  
  
A flash of lights, stars, suns.  Roots spreading through earth.  Oxygen combusting.  Atoms splitting, molecules combining.  All of the past, all of the future, he knew everything, he knew _e v e r y t h i n g_ \--  
  
_You know nothing,_ a voice whispered, a voice he didn't recognize, something sibilant and and frigid and unrecognizably inhuman, and abruptly, he was in his own body again.  
  
The lights had burnt out.  He blinked in the darkness, disconcerted.  There was a sound, resounding, desperate.  It echoed off the walls and filled the room and cut through his eardrums, high-pitched and animal and agonized--  
  
That was his voice.  
  
He was screaming.  
  
He screamed and he screamed and he screamed, his voice hoarse, his throat rending.  His head felt like it was splitting and his entire body ached, but his _hands_ \--his hands were an agony of fire, worse than anything he'd ever felt before, pain upon pain upon pain--  
  
His fingers.  
  
All of his fingers were gone.  
  
Torn off at the knuckles, blood gushing, stubs of bone gleaming sickly white amidst the raw flesh.  His hands clenched, but there were no fingers to curl into fists, and the spasm of muscles sent jolts of agony down his arms and sent another pulse of blood pouring from the stumps--  
  
He stared at his own hands, wide-eyed in horror.  "No," he whispered, "no, that wasn't the cost, that wasn't the payment!"  He slammed his hands down against the stone, smears of crimson slashing through the neat lines of chalk, again and again and again, each impact a new shock of agony.  "No," he shouted, "no, no, _no_!"  He shouted, he _screamed_ \--"No!  What happened to equivalent exchange?  A life for a life!  A soul for a soul!  You were supposed to take me!  You hear me?   _You were supposed to take me!_ "  
  
_Silly mortal,_ the voice whispered in his ear, snakelike and repulsive.   _Did you think your soul an equivalent exchange for his?_  
  
His eyes widened.  But before he could say anything else, a thud sounded behind him.  Faint, uncertain.  The sound of movement.  
  
He whirled around.  Through the haze of smoke in the air and the grey mist fuzzing over his vision, he saw a dark shape, a vague outline, jerkily rising up from the floor.  His heart leapt into his throat, because he hadn't paid the full price, he hadn't offered up an equivalent exchange, it couldn't be, it _couldn't_ be--  
  
But there was something there, some _one_ there, someone watching him with eyes that glittered in the blackness.  He croaked out wordlessly, tears streaming down his cheeks, blood streaming down his arms.  He reached out one trembling, fingerless hand, reaching, reaching.  He panted for air and screamed without voice, begging for salvation, facing hell.  He breathed, he breathed, he breathed, and finally, he whispered, terrified--  
  
"Ed?"

**Author's Note:**

> (Inspired by the prompt: 100 words of came back wrong)


End file.
